It All Ends With War
by tardis9715
Summary: It's pretty much a war story, with the park crew in three different groups, Alpha, Flash, and Easy. Rated T for Teen because of violence and minor language
1. A Cold Day in Hell

**Hey guys, I'm really sorry about the whole waiting thing. I had computer troubles, but hopefully they're fixed…for now. So, I've come to the fact that I suck at "family friendly" stories, so I've decided to go to the other end of the spectrum. This next story is a war story centered around three squads from the war story from ARL. I've been planning it out and here it is.**

Alpha-Operation Full Moon- 22 June, 1968- Nah Trang

It was a cold, dark night, like all the others, but this night felt different. All of us in Alpha were trained to effectively use our minds as weapons, and to use our rifles for thinking, but to actually incorporate the training into the job was a whole different story. Most of us were new. Come to think about it, only two of us were veterans. Lieutenant Benson and Sergeant Major Phelps were supposed to be some of the toughest guys in the division; I've heard stories that I don't like to think about.

We head out to the jungles, not even knowing what's in there or if we will make it out alive to see another day. I look at my friend from boot camp, Kenny Sparrow. Ironically enough, that's exactly what he was: a brown feathered sparrow. He's a good guy, but somehow I know that he won't be walking out of here alive. I look to my left and see pitch black. _Why did I have to be put on the end?_, I think to myself. _If we get attacked, I'm the most likely to die, or even worse, to be captured and tortured to death._

We keep walking for what seems like miles, only hearing the sounds of the jungles. The jungles and the Set Cong. The "Lightning Army", as they were known. They were known for jumping in, attacking, and scattering before we could get our bearings together. The quiet starts to get annoying. Disturbing and annoying. It's the kind of disturbing that you feel like you're being watched. Luckily, Bradley, a submachine gunner to my right, starts humming the national anthem. It seems like it worked, because now I'm not scared. Just cold.

About an hour later, we stop for the night. All of us either take watch or find a nearby spot to hunker down and fall asleep. I take first watch. It lasts from 8:00 to 10:00. It feels like forever until Bradley and another guy take watch. The dreams are horrible. In the first, they've got me and they're torturing me for information about a past event. I woke with a start, looking around I see that the watch hadn't changed yet. I grab my canteen and take a long drink from it before laying back down and falling slowly back to sleep.

In the second dream, I saw my newly wedded wife, Cyndi, and our first child, Luke. I tried reaching out to them but they kept getting farther and farther away. Then, there was noise, and lots of it. The ground beneath me was shaking violently and I woke up. Kenny was standing over me, telling me to get my ass moving, and quick. Groggily, I search for my helmet. _That's the most important thing right now. _I find it near me and throw it on. _Now my rifle_. I search frantically for it and it turns up missing. _Damn it! They're going to kill me!_ "They" being Benson and Phelps. An enemy soldier comes up to me as I'm searching and pulls out his pistol. As he aims at my head, I say my last goodbyes. Luck finds me at the last second. In fact, I thought he pulled the trigger. I look up and see him laying on the ground, blood all over his face. Once again, Sparrow saved my ass. I remember the first time as well as I'll remember this one.

**Flashback**

It was just before I was drafted into the army. Sparrow and I were hanging out at a bar and I was rocked. He told me that he didn't want to drink much; I had assumed it was because someone had to drive us home. We leave shortly after and I stumble off into a nearby alley to throw up whatever wanted to come up. As I'm hunched over, two guys in uniforms come up to me, one a little taller than the other.

"You okay?", the shorter one asks me.

"Chuck, shut up.", the other one tells his friend. "What's the matter buddy? Can't handle your drink?" He starts to laugh.

Coughing and spewing, I'm defenseless against whatever they throw at me. The only thing I can do is power through it.

"I have an idea. If he can't handle that drink, maybe this one will suit him better.", Chuck chimes in.

"Wait, are you talking about-", the other one starts to ask before being cut off.

"The Mississippi Queen! You know I always carry some around with me in case I need a quick fix. Let's see if he can handle it. Hold him down Seth."

Seth, the taller one, holds my arms down while Chuck pulls out this disgusting looking drink in a bottle.

"This here has a little bit of kimchi, past sauce, soy sauce, some clam shells, shrimp, peppers and a few other things in it. Bottoms up!" He tips the bottle into my mouth and the horrid drink sloshes in.

At first, it seemed tasteless. It actually wasn't that bad. But after a few minutes, it kicked in and my mouth was on fire. I started to see things around me burning into flames and floating off into space. I looked over and I saw them laughing at me. Seth wasn't holding me anymore, so I was on the ground, but I seemed incapable of movement. I hear another voice, I don't know who's it is.

"Hey, what in the blue hell are you doing? Leave him alone!" Kenny runs up and tackles Seth just as they start to kick me in my ribs. As he starts beating down on Seth, Chuck pulls out a switchblade and holds it against my neck, small beads of blood starting to form around the blade. The blade digs a little deeper into my neck as Seth is knocked unconscious. Kenny notices me in the stout man's arms and stops short. They just stare at each other in the faint light from the streetlamps.

Next thing I know, I'm back on the ground, but I'm not bleeding to death. Chuck lay unconscious next to me. And yet, there's another voice.

"Glad I came out here when I did. Your friend alright?" It sounded like the bartender.

Laying in my own vomit, I am once again picked up, this time by Kenny. He takes his shirt and tears a wide strip off, then proceeds to wrap up my neck.

"I think he'll be okay for now. Thanks.", Kenny tells the man.

"Hey, what can I say? I have to protect my customers. It's good for business."

Kenny walks me to his car and lays me down in the backseat. The next day, he tells me everything that happened, how he found me thrashing around and being beaten to a pulp, the fight, and the bartender that came to the rescue.

**Modern day**

I see Kenny standing over me. He had just killed somebody. The first time was always the worst, I kept hearing. I'm waiting for mine.

"Missing something?", he asks me as he tosses the rifle to me. My rifle. I know it is by the engraving I made in the stock. _Live free or die trying_. I heard it somewhere, I can't place the origin.

"Thanks" I get up, still shocked about the near- death encounter. The fighting stopped shortly after. _Must've been another raiding party, _I think to myself. _No wonder it didn't last very long_. I hear Benson doing role call.

"1!", he shouts. People call off numbers until I call out 14. 15 is missing, we find out later that it was the submachine gunner, Bradley. Glasses askew, a puddle of blood surrounding him, we say our last goodbyes and Benson grabs his dog tags.

We get moving again around dawn and the morning is cold and wet. Mitch "Muscle Man" Sorenstein, a support gunner, makes a joke. Something about his mother being cold and wet. Nobody laughs. None of us are willing to stay, and we gladly get moving again. Breakfast was on the go, consisting of a handful of wild fruits and water. Out here, we either hunt for our food or starve until the next meal.

Marching along as the sun comes up isn't too bad. The biggest problem is the bugs. The bugs and the fear of dying. We stop around noon at a camp. Looks like we've found Flash, one of the better engineer groups. They welcome us and we rest as Benson and Phelps talk to the Captain, a yeti that no one seems to know the name of. I hear from a couple of guys, a blue jay and a raccoon, that they call him Skips because of they way he gets around.

**Ok guys, I know it seems weird, but I've got the park crew split up between three separate groups that will meet up and fight their way through the war. If you're wondering, the war takes place in Southeast Asia and the Philippines area, and it's kind of like a cross between WWII and the Vietnam War. It takes place in the late 60s (I know, it sounds cliché) but I needed a starting date and it so happens the 60s usually appeal to me. I'm thinking of having the groups being in every third chapter, so in Ch. 1,4,7, etc. it'll be Alpha, 2,5,8,etc. being Flash, and 3,6,9, etc. being Easy. Alpha group is mainly a gunner group, consisting of riflemen and submachine gunners. Flash is an engineer group, as stated earlier. And Easy Company (Yes, I know it's a Band of Brothers reference) is an air group. As we go on, I'll try to give more detail on the individual lives of our guys, but things could change. And yes, Chuck is the guy from Weekend at Benson's, aka the Iron Stomach. I planned on putting random villains from the show in flashbacks and such. Please review or PM me if you've got comments, questions, or if you're just bored. Ideas will be much obliged. **


	2. Fights, Friends, and Fire

**Hey guys! Here's the second installment of this story. Hope you enjoy!**

Flash-Operation Full Moon- 23 June, 1968- Nah Trang

**Benson, Phelps, and Skips**

"I'm telling you, it's impossible to take the coast from the land. It's a better idea to take it using two fronts: one from the land and one from the water. We can deploy destroyers here and here.", Skips says while pointing to two points on a map.

"No. Our best chance for this attack is from the land. We can get it without the boats. If we put a division here", Benson points to a point on the map, "then we can get this area in a week, tops."

"What do you say, Phelps?", Skips asks the Sergeant Major.

"I think Skips here has the better chance. We should put in the boats.", Phelps replies.

"Ugh! Why don't you guys listen to me?", his gumballs are starting to turn red. "It's obviously the better choice! You, Phelps, just agree with this white piece of crap because you're afraid he could rip you to shreds!"

Skips looks at Phelps, then at Benson. "You need to calm down. It's just the stress, we've all had a lot lately. Just calm down and we can continue planning."

Benson, whose gumballs were now a fiery red, now in a fit of rage picks up the nearest chair and throws it across the tent, nearly missing Skips, but hitting Phelps directly in the face. He falls to the ground.

"You shouldn't have done that! Now we've lost a third of our planning staff, and you're too worked up to do anything! Now calm down!", Skips demands of Benson.

"Why should I? I'm starting to feel like I'm not being listened to anymore." Benson complains.

"Benson, go visit with the others in the mess hall. Skips and I will finish here.", Phelps commands.

Benson leaves, rightfully angry and scared of what could happen to his position. Would he be field marshaled? No, Skips wouldn't set him up for one…would he? Many questions raced through his mind as he made his way to the mess hall.

**The Mess Hall**

As Benson walked in, the smell of chili filled his nose. He looks around as notices people from both his group and Flash sitting together and conversing. He sighs to himself as he heads up to the food counter with a tray.

"Hey man. What can I do for ya?", the cook asked him. Benson was lost in thought. "Hello?"

Benson broke and suddenly realized he was getting his lunch. "Oh, sorry. I'll just take some chili."

"Is that it? You sure you don't want some coffee or something?"

"No, that'll be all. Thanks.", the gumball machine got his food and spun around on his heels, searching for a place to sit. Looking about, he spots an empty table near the far back of the tent, and he gladly walks there and sits down to eat his lunch in quiet.

Moments later, two fellows from Flash sit down at his table. Mordecai and Rigby started talking with two bowls of chili and equally numbered cups of coffee.

"I told you it wouldn't handle the winds. They're like razors out there. We can't send something out like this.", Mordecai was arguing with his longtime friend, Rigby, about a new helicopter they had tested out.

"Yeah, but the winds only come off the high tide. We can send 'em out during low tide, it wouldn't hurt anything.", Rigby argued back.

Their argument went on for what seemed like centuries until they even realize what they were originally doing and their lunch was ice cold. Meanwhile, Benson was busy thinking of what would happen to him. While thinking, he had a flashback.

**Flashback**

Benson was in boot camp, it was his sixth week. He was assigned to kitchen duty for having a disorderly uniform. The other guy in there with him was named Doug. The two occasionally spoke to each other but never exactly talked to each other. Doug, or as he told Benson once, had been in prison for theft twice and had joined the Army in hopes to help straighten him out. That's as close to a conversation as they had.

One day, Benson was in cleaning the dishes after the Captain Keyes' 50th birthday. Doug was in there too. It all started when Doug spoke up.

"You don't need to be an asshole. I saw you weren't smiling at the party. Why not?", he inquired.

"Maybe because I feel as an individual that birthdays aren't something to be celebrated. It's just another day, so who cares if I don't smile?", Benson explained.

"Well, sure, but the guy turned 50. That deserves some respect. In this business, not many live past 50.", Doug continued.

"I'll have you know I come from a highly militaristic family. My father served in WWII and his father served in WWI. His father was in the Pinkertons and his father was in the Civil War. His father was a slave owner and his father was in the American Revolution."

"Nobody cares anymore. In here, it's live or let die.", Doug persists.

"Have you ever learned that what you say is the wrong thing and you should keep your mouth shut the second time?", Benson asks, obviously angered.

"Yeah, I have. But _nobody_ cares what happens to us. Nobody cares what happens to you, me, or anyone else."

"Why don't you just shut the hell up? It would do us all a favor.", Benson's gumballs were glowing a deep red.

"Why? You should shut up. You have no respect for anyone.", Doug, regardless of whether he knows it or not, is in trouble.

"I have no respect for anyone? Have you looked at yourself lately? I wasn't the one stealing from others to make my way because I was too lazy to get a job! I wasn't the one thinking I could correct other people's lives because my life is too messed up as it is! I'm the one trying to work and get my pay like everyone else because I need the money because I didn't steal and cheat others!", Benson yelled at him.

"Benson!", the drill sergeant in the mess hall heard him. He was doomed. The man walks into the kitchen to meet Benson with a look of pure evil in his eye. "And you!", he said to Doug, "will both be doing kitchen duty for the rest of your time here if I hear your mamby pamby bitching again." With this, he turned on his heel and walked out.

"Great. Now you see what you've done? I'll be stuck in here for ages with you. I would rather be stuck with the Set Cong than be here with you.", Doug told Benson.

The work went on, but to no avail as they were arguing yet again in fifteen minutes.

"This pot isn't clean! It'll never pass inspection, you dolt!", the gumball machine roared at his partner through hell.

"Yeah it is! Those are water stains. They form from washing this freaking thing too many times.", Doug replied.

The drill sergeant was back. He had been sitting in the doorway listening to the two fight back and forth like little children but neither of them had noticed his presence.

"Girls, lower the estrogen levels in here. I might get moody myself. I want you, you pile of scum, to finish here and clean the commode clean enough that you won't get sick from eating off of it.", he told Doug. "And you, metal mouth", he said to Benson, " I want you on field duty for the next two weekends. How does it feel, knowing that your weekends are wisely spent, preparing the future of our military one person at a time?"

"It feels good sir.", Benson mumbled back.

"What was that soldier?", he fired back.

"It feels good, sir, knowing that I am improving our country for the future.", Benson retried.

"That's good. Now, finish here and if I hear any more complaining about the pots and pans or who did what to get in here, I will personally make both of your lives a living hell.", he sharply turns and leaves them alone again.

**Present Day**

"Dude, d'you think he's dead?, Rigby asked his friend.

"Nah. If he was dead, the bugs would swarm him faster than the heat could.", Mordecai answered back.

"Hold on for a second. I bet you that lamp that your girlfriend CJ sent you from home.", Rigby challenged.

After thinking hard about it, Mordecai agrees. Rigby gets up and pokes Benson in the face. He sits there, not even moving a muscle.

"Ha! Looks like I won. Now to go collect my prize.", Rigby flaunts as he starts to walk out of the mess hall.

"Oh god. I've made so many wrong choices in my life.", Benson says and starts to break down. The raccoon stopped in his tracks.

"Wait, what's wrong. Let us help you out, man.", Mordecai gets him to calm down.

"You two are probably the only one that'll listen, so here goes.", the gumball machine takes a deep breath and recounts his flashback to the pair. After listening to him, they just stare.

"Wait, why did you even go in the army?", Rigby asks.

"My entire family was in the military one way or another. I figured my dad would be proud of me for once for carrying on the tradition.", Benson answers him.

"Dude, you should make your own choices. Don't let your family choose your life.", Mordecai gives his best advice.

"Yeah, defeat the system, man. End the corruptness and political correctness that is society.", Rigby offered.

"You know what? I think you guys are right. When I'm done with this tour, I'm out of it. I have no need for it", Benson concluded.

Later that day led to nothing but slacking off for the three. Rigby, upon finding out that he lost the bet, was disappointed that he didn't win the lamp, but he'll find something else, he knows it. Night fell and lights out was called, so Benson had to go back to his tent until the morning.

The next morning brought savagery and destruction. Smoke filled the soldiers' lungs as they were rudely awaken as the Sun crept out. Shouts were heard as fire spread everywhere, turning the campsite into a pile of ash. The one thought going through Mordecai and Rigby's minds were the same: how many people were dead? Even worse: was their commander currently burning alive?

**Hey guys! So I purposefully left a cliffhanger. You guys probably hate me, or you don't. idk, but the one thing I do know is that someone is going to die and someone gets lowered in rank. Just you guys wait for Chapter 3, you'll like it. And yes, the first major battle will be in the next chapter. And a certain someone will be revealed. Well, wish me luck and may the Schwartz be with you. Goodnight and remember, beware of the Spaceballs. They'll take your stuff and brake for nobody.**


	3. A New Hope

**Hey guys! So, Idk what to put here, so I'll just do this. Words words words, words words words words, words words. Anyway, here you go. Don't have too much fun.**

Flash-Operation Full Moon-24 June, 1968-Nah Trang

Smoke and shouts filled the air. People were screaming and running about. Hundreds were on fire. Adrenaline flew about inside Mordecai's veins. Rigby ran off to help fight the fire. And yet, one question remained. Where was Skips, their commander? Usually, in these types of situations, he would be with them fighting on the front lines, carefree of what could happen.

Mordecai, deciding to go look for Skips, runs towards the command tent, weaving in and out of fire and bullets along the way. Minutes later, he arrives to burning tent. Taking a deep breath and covering his face, he heads into the smoke. What he is able to make out are a couple blood spots on the map table and drag marks on the ground. Going against general orders to stay with the squad, he leaves, following the tracks into the jungle. In the distance, he hears the yells diminishing as he gets farther into the dense landscape that would surely mean death.

Stopping after an hour from the heat and humidity, the shouts were far from being heard. He takes a quick drink from his canteen and heads on, further into the jungle. A while on, he discovers the end of the tracks. Trees and thick bushes surround him and all is quiet. Even nature seemed to hold its breath at the shock of the moment. Here, 12 miles into the jungle, 12 miles away from camp, 12 miles from his friends and communication to the outside world, stood a soldier willing to save his personal friend and commander rather than stay and fight. He ran.

_Does that make me a coward?_, the blue jay thought. Surely it wouldn't, knowing that he was the one who ran from death, not to it. Watching the afternoon sky, Mordecai thinks hard. _the tracks end here. I know that they're around here somewhere, and I'm pretty sure they just wouldn't kill him, would they? They would want information…_

Rustling is heard behind Mordecai and he is knocked out. As he goes unconscious, he hears the laughing of enemies. Enemies that need to die.

When he wakes up, he sees nothing but darkness. Groggy and disoriented, he tries to move, but feels ropes bounding his hands together behind his back.

"Ugh! Why did this have to happen to me? Why?", the bird cries out.

"Who's there?", Skips' voice is heard.

"It's me, Private Mordecai, sir. Where are we?", he asks the commander.

"I can't tell. But if I had my say, I think we're underground.", Skips replies. "Why are you here?"

"I went looking for you during the fire. I know I'm not supposed to disobey orders sir, but we needed you out there. Everyone was looking for you."

"Is anyone with you?", Skips inquires.

"No. Just me, sir.", Mordecai answers. "Nobody came with me."

"Ok, that's good. It leaves them less room for them to get information that they want."

Mordecai's eyes, adjusted to the darkness, now scan the room. He sees that he is in a cage. He feels the ropes cutting into his skin, but no matter what he does, he can't move them so they stop. For now, it's one of life's pinpricks. He notices his commander is in a cage similar to and nearby his own. Skips is tied up too.

Hours seem to go by with nothing happening. Mordecai hears gentle breathing from the other cage. Skips must be asleep. Daring himself to fall asleep, his body seems to undermine his thoughts as he finds himself unable to.

Sunlight shines from cracks in the wall, waking the now asleep Mordecai. Grumbling from his slumber, he quickly glances around. The light helping him this time, he spots a rusty piece of metal sticking out of his cage. The challenge was what to do with it. He could try to bend it and cut the ropes holding his hands together, but that leaves him nowhere but in the cage. He decides to go for it and fervently works to bend it at a sharp angle inside the cage, but after a long time he only gets it a half inch inside of his cage. Talking to Skips along the way and trusting him enough to reveal his plan, the yeti is glad to help. As he puts it, it's "better than staying in here with the enemy".

As the guards make their normal rounds, checking the three other cell compartment inside the complex, they eventually get to the fourth that houses Skips and Mordecai. Checking the cages and harassing the two a little, they finally leave, not noticing the bent bar section. Mordecai gets started on cutting the ropes around his wrists. They give in after a few minutes and the sudden break caused Mordecai's wing to slip and cut itself on the bar.

Mordecai swears out in pain as he stems the bleeding. At least the ropes are off. Now he can work out how to get out of the cage. Skips, realizing what has happened, quiets Mordecai down just as the guards come back.

"Did you hear something?", one guard asks.

"Yeah, it sounded like a cry in pain", the other one replies as they open the door to the cell room. He turns on a flashlight and purposefully shines it in both of their faces. The first guard, grinning in approval, leaves, taking the other guard with him. The sounds of many locks being clicked shut are heard from inside the room.

Mordecai sighs in frustration and faces towards Skips.

"There's no way we can get out of here. We'll rot in here before we step out into the jungle again.", he explains to his commander. "It was our only hope."

"No. there is another", Skips solemnly tells the Private.

**Back at the base camp**

Has anyone seen Mordecai and Skips? And what about that other guy, Sampson?", Benson asks around.

"Sampson's dead. He was burned alive.", one soldier replies.

Benson curses loudly, not knowing how many others they would lose to their enemy. He paces back and forth, thinking of what to do at the moment. A sudden thought comes to him. He stops and faces the others.

"We could send a group into the jungle, consisting of four of us. The others will radio for pick-up and get outta here. It's past being worth the risk.", Benson explains.

Murmurs and whispers of agreement are heard from the group of restless soldiers.

"The group will consist of Rigby, Mitch, Fives, and I.", he continues. "Who's got a radio?'

A goat towards the back raises his hand. "I have one, sir."

"Good. I want you to radio for help when you can't see us anymore. Us four will find a way out.", the gumball machine finishes.

The group heads toward the jungle, near where Mordecai entered previously. After ten minutes, the radioman calls for a pick-up to a nearby air base 40 miles to the east.

**Ok! Sorry it took so long, I've been lazy. That, mixed with the fact that I start school soon doesn't make time management too good. Well, here's the third installment and I hope you like it. And yes, there is a Star Wars reference in there. I couldn't help it. As always, review or PM me for ideas and all that jazz. Enjoy!**


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